Us anons? How many of us do you think they are? One? Ten? Three? Do we all know each other? Do think we coordinate our questions? We plan them like prelude to an act? Breadcrumbs on a trail? If you were blind folded in a room and various people approached you and whispered things in your ears would you be able to tell us apart for our “interesting senses of humor”? Could you handle us? Do you fantasize about us? Do you think out there in that anonymous crowd there might be those of us that can push you to new levels. To give you exactly what you want when you give up all control. To play you and hit all the right notes? Maybe you should join us. Maybe you should look in your inbox one day and find the name of a hotel, a room number, and a time. Maybe this is how it will go: You show up at the hotel room. Walking out of the elevator you catch yourself quickening your pace to get to the door. You slow down. Don’t want to be overeager. Pause. Adjust your skirt and question if you should be there at all. It is insane to show up to this place. Not knowing who and how many. You knock on the door. No answer. You knock again. No answer. Then you remember. We like to fuck your mind first. You try the handle. The door opens. There is a note on a small table directly in front of the door. Heavy off white stock. Beautifully handwritten: “Put it on”. On the sliver platter, underneath where the note was is a blindfold. You take it. You put it on. Feel the silk as you tie the knot. Afraid you didn’t tie it properly, securely. Afraid we won’t be pleased about that and send you on your way. But you don’t want that. You want to go through with it. You know anything that happens will be consensual but that doesn’t lessen the the anticipation, the trepidation. the fear. It may be consensual but it will not be boring. It will be safe but thrilling. You put it on and you wait. Nothing. You wait. Your hearing grows more sensitive with each passing moment. You can hear that there are people in a room further down the hallway. You can sense them there. Their breathing. You walk towards the sounds. Slowly. Trying to make out more details. Are there people talking? How many? Did someone shift in their seat? You can hear the blood coursing through your neck. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Nervous. Excited. Afraid. You stop. You can’t see but there is someone in front of you. You can feel his body heat. He is taller. Broad shoulders. If he were behind you, your shoulders would fit perfectly in his chest. You wan to reach out and feel his face with your hands. His hair. The muscles in his back. Trace his outline. But you must not. You know that. He takes your hands from behind you and brings them to the front. With a quick but deliberate motion rope is tied around your wrists. You knew it would be like this but the force, the speed catches you by surprise. He walks away. You follow the sound of his shoes. Trying to picture them. Are they black? What size? He sits down on a chair. You stand there. Not knowing. Not wanting to move for the fear of being admonished. You wait. Still. Obedient. It fells like an eternity. Your mind wonders. Maybe no one else is there. Maybe he left while you were lost in your thoughts. You feel drunk. Wet. Head swimming. You feel yourself dripping. You hear another footstep. This time from your right. It is high heels. You try and picture her. Her body. The color of her hair. Does she have fair white skin and dark nail polish? She reaches for you. She tightens your blindfold. Oh no. It wasn’t tight enough. Are they disappointed. Will this end now? Will you be sent on your way never knowing who these people were or what they looked like? But no. No my dear. She puts a collar around your neck and leads you towards where the man sat earlier. You get closer to his chair. He runs his hand down the curve of your ass, slowly, methodically, down the hem of your skirt, down your thigh, around the back of your knee and strokes your leg. You are hopping he runs it up your leg again. But he doesn’t. You won’t get what you want so easily. You’ll have to be patient. She leads you around in a semi-circle. There are others there. She stops at each one. Is this going to be the strong hand of a man, or the soft skin of a woman? You can’t see them but you know they are looking you up and down before they touch you. They touch where they want. How they want. The last one isn’t sitting down. He is standing. You are very close to him. You can smell his cologne. He walks around you. Strokes your hair. You can feel his breath on your neck. He leans closer. His stubble brushes your cheek. He runs his other hand around your neck and grips it. You want him to tighten his grip but he holds it just on the periphery of where you want. Teasing you right at the edge. He lets go. You didn’t get what you wanted. So close. Then slap! Hard. Across your face. Yes. Yes. If you could you would beg for more. You would fall to your knees and beg him for another one. Harder. To stop the teasing. To stop the unknown. But no. The girl yanks your hair. It is sudden. Your pussy responds. She leads you away from them. To a bed. You reflexively bend over. On all fours. On the bed. Your ass towards the men who you can’t see. You feel it against your skin. It is cold. She moves it quickly and the blade rips through one stocking. Before you can process this she rips the other one. Your wetness grows. If only you could have relief. She puts force between your shoulder blades signaling you to push your head down. You comply being the good girl that you are. Your body forms a long slender shape, a seductive curve sloping down from the roundness of your ass to the arch of your back, over you shoulders, flattening to your long outstretched tied arms. She runs the blade up your inner thigh. Your excitement grows as it gets closer to your panties but she flicks it away from your body instead and cuts through the back of your skirts with one motion. Your ass, your soaking panties are now on display for the men. Your skirt cut in half, opened up, like petals of a flower. Like your pussy lips opening in anticipation of a hard cock. Begging to be filled. You can’t hide the fact that you like it. They know it. You know it. You can hear them smile. Pleased with what a good obedient girl you are. You hear them walk towards you. Slowly. Nonchalantly. Knowing exactly what they want to do with you and they will do it and you can’t wait for them to get closer. And then just before they get there you notice the cold chain that has been caressing your right ass cheek. Your thoughts of what is to come, of to get fucked, must have clouded the sensation earlier. You realize that it is a long thin chain and it moves in sync with the girl’s body. She is also theirs. She too is here to serve them. You drip with anticipation as you wait for what is to come next knowing that at the end of it all, after all that you will endure in the next hours, all the pleasure, the pain, the humiliation, the mind fuck, the denied orgasms, at the end of it all there will be warmth, satisfaction and contentment.